It was the Grammys yesterday.
I hate the Grammys.
I like the Juno Awards*.
* said I before actually listening to the shortlist
So! To the Juno Nominees!
Juno Fan Choice: Arcade Fire. Hands down. In a list with Justin Bieber and Nickelback (excuse me while I wash my mouth out), surely someone would have the sense to give it to Win Butler and co.
Single of the Year: The Sheepdogs, I Don't Know Best of a bad set, I'm afraid. They remind be a bit of The Eagles, so they can't be all that awful.
International Album Of The Year: I'll let Adele have this, I guess. Again, best of a bad set (Oh, woe is me. I started this post with such high expectations).
Album Of The Year: This is not simply a bad set. This is a set so bad it makes me want to go and lie down in a darkened room.
Artist of the Year: Finally I can have some faith in music again! Feist is having this one folks, no question.
That's me out, before my head explodes from all the rubbish music people are allowed to get awards for. See ya!
Moll x
Monday, 13 February 2012
Sunday, 12 February 2012
SOTW: Strawberry Whiplash, Factory Girl
Listening to noise pop in February is like eating ice-cream at Christmas. Eccentric, quirky, and even better in the wrong season than it is in the right one. You listen to Factory Girl, even in this weather, and you can see it - the rain coming down on a deserted beach in, as Morrisey so eloquently put it, a humdrum town. There's a plastic bag billowing in the breeze, and the tide is sweeping in and out in time with the rickety drums. The gentle squawking of the seagulls blends with the Stone Roses guitar lines. You, leaning against the railings, sing quietly along, the only person in the world. It's a strange feeling. Like you're living in a dream.
7/10
Moll x
Moll x
Friday, 10 February 2012
Foreign Friday: Israel
Or Label Day, depending on your preference of feature. They're both on Hiss Records, y'see.
I think there's a theme developing here. Sharon Van Etten. Cat Power. St Vincent. Shany Kedar, This House
There's not an app anywhere in Linux Fedora or Firefox that allows me to type in hebrew, but I'll try to cut'n'paste. If it doesn't work I'll have to rely on dodgy Google Translate.
That's all I found, but if those of you who are actually in Israel could give me some pointers, that'd be great. Thanks in advance!
Moll x
I think there's a theme developing here. Sharon Van Etten. Cat Power. St Vincent. Shany Kedar, This House
There's not an app anywhere in Linux Fedora or Firefox that allows me to type in hebrew, but I'll try to cut'n'paste. If it doesn't work I'll have to rely on dodgy Google Translate.
ישי קיצ'לס,
מאבן לאבן (can't get them in one line, sorry.)That's all I found, but if those of you who are actually in Israel could give me some pointers, that'd be great. Thanks in advance!
Moll x
Thursday, 9 February 2012
Second-Look Thursday
I think I should do this, don't you? Especially since reviewing SVE yesterday and finding that I liked her after all, so much so that Tramp got the second-ever full score.
Clogs, Last Song. On first look, they were a mostly instrumental band that I didn't listen to because I didn't want my image of the Bryce Dessner as a brilliant, humble musician tarnished by possibly pretentious music.
On second look, WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING? It's the Bryce Dessner, you idiot, with Padma Newsome to boot. Of course it's beautiful stuff.
St Vincent, Cheerleader. I really wanted to love her. Come on - great voice, great guitar player, great lyrics - but, much like Sharon Van Etten, there was something stopping me from liking her. I think it was possibly money preservation. But to hell with the purse strings, it's not like I have rent to pay.
Charlotte Gainsbourg, Heaven Can Wait. This is actually more of a third look. First look, my mind process was as follows: Oh, I don't know her, she looks cool. Oh, she's an actress, and the daughter of Serge Gainsbourg. Cynicism raised its head, and I didn't bother with her. Then I saw The Science Of Sleep. Cynicism looked unsure. Then, after ten months after discovering her, I finally listened to her music. Cynicism slunk back to its lair.
Moll x
Clogs, Last Song. On first look, they were a mostly instrumental band that I didn't listen to because I didn't want my image of the Bryce Dessner as a brilliant, humble musician tarnished by possibly pretentious music.
On second look, WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING? It's the Bryce Dessner, you idiot, with Padma Newsome to boot. Of course it's beautiful stuff.
St Vincent, Cheerleader. I really wanted to love her. Come on - great voice, great guitar player, great lyrics - but, much like Sharon Van Etten, there was something stopping me from liking her. I think it was possibly money preservation. But to hell with the purse strings, it's not like I have rent to pay.
Charlotte Gainsbourg, Heaven Can Wait. This is actually more of a third look. First look, my mind process was as follows: Oh, I don't know her, she looks cool. Oh, she's an actress, and the daughter of Serge Gainsbourg. Cynicism raised its head, and I didn't bother with her. Then I saw The Science Of Sleep. Cynicism looked unsure. Then, after ten months after discovering her, I finally listened to her music. Cynicism slunk back to its lair.
Moll x
Wednesday, 8 February 2012
AOTS: Sharon Van Etten, Tramp
AOTS? On a Wednesday? Is the woman delirious? No. No, I'm not. Well, maybe, but not about this. I found out about this just two days ago, and I couldn't wait until Sunday to hear it. Besides, they might have taken down the stream by then, and if I didn't hear this for the sake of routine I don't know what I'd have done. Pretty standard reaction for someone addicted to music, you might think. But here is where it gets strange.
I never liked her that much.
I always thought she was good, certainly, I loved her voice, loved her guitar playing. But there was something missing. Maybe because I hadn't listened to enough of her music. Well, here I am, listening to Tramp and wondering where this album has been all my life. It starts slowly, sneakily, in clouds of electric and acoustic guitar, and the kind of voice an angel would have if it started gargling gravel. Give Out is normal enough, apart from the soft, powerful melody that takes it from unremarkable to the most beautiful song I've heard this year. It feels as if you're standing behind a locked door, listening to the songs of a woman who has no idea you're there, and is all the more glorious for it. Gentle and chilling, beautiful and tormented, both Kevin's and Leonard make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, make you shiver. How is it that something so simple, so common as the words "I loved you" can freeze the blood in your veins? And there's a tragedy in every "And it hurts too much to laugh about it" a tragedy that still holds on to its dignity, its hurt pride, instead of letting go and wallowing in self-pity. The feeling flows through the whole album, covering every quiet word with a strength that is hard to find within yourself, let alone make an album from it. It's been a long time since anything this bare has been so enchanting, and that's the surprising thing, the proof if proof were needed that music like this is more than the sum of its parts. From the all-consuming piano-guitar-drums-vocals of All I Can, to the understated We Are Fine, it seems wrong that there are people in this world, making music right now that is stronger and sharper than anything so many hundreds of bands and artists can dream of creating. It embodies so much, and yet Tramp is an album unaware of its own grace. My only hope is that the rest of the world can see it.
10/10
Moll x
I never liked her that much.
I always thought she was good, certainly, I loved her voice, loved her guitar playing. But there was something missing. Maybe because I hadn't listened to enough of her music. Well, here I am, listening to Tramp and wondering where this album has been all my life. It starts slowly, sneakily, in clouds of electric and acoustic guitar, and the kind of voice an angel would have if it started gargling gravel. Give Out is normal enough, apart from the soft, powerful melody that takes it from unremarkable to the most beautiful song I've heard this year. It feels as if you're standing behind a locked door, listening to the songs of a woman who has no idea you're there, and is all the more glorious for it. Gentle and chilling, beautiful and tormented, both Kevin's and Leonard make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, make you shiver. How is it that something so simple, so common as the words "I loved you" can freeze the blood in your veins? And there's a tragedy in every "And it hurts too much to laugh about it" a tragedy that still holds on to its dignity, its hurt pride, instead of letting go and wallowing in self-pity. The feeling flows through the whole album, covering every quiet word with a strength that is hard to find within yourself, let alone make an album from it. It's been a long time since anything this bare has been so enchanting, and that's the surprising thing, the proof if proof were needed that music like this is more than the sum of its parts. From the all-consuming piano-guitar-drums-vocals of All I Can, to the understated We Are Fine, it seems wrong that there are people in this world, making music right now that is stronger and sharper than anything so many hundreds of bands and artists can dream of creating. It embodies so much, and yet Tramp is an album unaware of its own grace. My only hope is that the rest of the world can see it.
10/10
Moll x
Tuesday, 7 February 2012
Label Day: Suicide Squeeze Records
"Summer, 1996. The Pacific Northwest. Modest Mouse’s debut album, “This Is a Long Drive for Someone with Nothing to Think About,” is released by Up Records. The
underground - still swooning - holds its collective breath as Built to
Spill signs a deal with Warner Brothers to record their follow-up to
“There’s Nothing Wrong With Love.” Pivotal times. The
Riot Grrrl movement had re-claimed “the personal as the political,”
heralding another wave of feminism and burgeoning movement that went
beyond musical expression; yet, genres and subcultures still quarantined
the conversation… All the while, Elliott Smith had begun to sing, alone
on stage, acoustic guitar in hand.
Enter Suicide Squeeze Records.
A label operated out of a basement - an
effort and an adventure - in the mid-nineties (when K and Kill Rock
Stars really thrived). This was a prolific period for regional music. Even
as the national spotlight burned off elsewhere, inspired sounds rushed
from the suburbs and the capitol, and swelled in Seattle. There
were countless exciting bands, and near as much noteworthy music - much
more, in fact, than indie labels could have hoped to document…"
I can't say, after reading that, that this is what I expected to hear. But there is something, something quiet and indie and..well, eighties about it all the same. Headphones, I Never Wanted You
I love this band so much. Never before has bratty punk been quite so adorable. The Coathangers, Trailer Park Boneyard
Picture this. You're walking along a street in a black-and-white B-movie. This drags itself up from the gutter like the the werewolf from the alley on your left. Then the lone camera closes in on your scream. Dirty Beaches, Lone Runner.
Moll x
Monday, 6 February 2012
(Catch Up) Music Monday
Where have I been? Well, on Wednesday I was abducted by the crew of the USS Enterprise. Yes, it's true. It IS. Ok, you got me, it's not. I just forgot and thought I could get away with blaming on Kirk and co.
Anyway, I owe this guy a review. So, without further ado (you can tell I've won poetry competitions, can't you*), here it is
I often wonder about the influence of Western music on other parts of the world. You can certainly hear it here. Sometimes the glint of pop vocals, sometimes the just-plain-weirdness of Child Bite. It's pacey and hard to pin down, but simultaneously as catchy as hell. There's a hint of ska rumbling through the background, a wavery bass line has more in common with a raucous childrens party than mainstream music. His vocals rival the speed of REM's It's The End of the World As We Know It and that "Dooby-dooby-dooby-do" is just adorable. The drums have been stolen from the circus, and the piano sounds like a hyper child. It's all great, every last bit of it.The only bit that grates is a slight wayward American pop squeak, but that is probably more debut album syndrome than a sign of things to come.
8/10
* Not to brag, but I actually have.
Anyway, I owe this guy a review. So, without further ado (you can tell I've won poetry competitions, can't you*), here it is
SOTW - Harsha Iyer, I Find You Boring
I often wonder about the influence of Western music on other parts of the world. You can certainly hear it here. Sometimes the glint of pop vocals, sometimes the just-plain-weirdness of Child Bite. It's pacey and hard to pin down, but simultaneously as catchy as hell. There's a hint of ska rumbling through the background, a wavery bass line has more in common with a raucous childrens party than mainstream music. His vocals rival the speed of REM's It's The End of the World As We Know It and that "Dooby-dooby-dooby-do" is just adorable. The drums have been stolen from the circus, and the piano sounds like a hyper child. It's all great, every last bit of it.The only bit that grates is a slight wayward American pop squeak, but that is probably more debut album syndrome than a sign of things to come.
8/10
* Not to brag, but I actually have.
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